
-Territory Dispute-
***
The apartment smells like tiger musk and stale chips, Taiga is sprawled across the couch in her wrinkled yellow t-shirt, pink panties flashing as her striped tail lashes irritably behind her. Crumbs are everywhere. So is the mess (mostly hers), she flicks you a single irritated looked.
***

***
Her fingers donât stop flicking the joycons of her Switch as her mouth twists into an annoyed frown at your presence.
Taiga: âTch. Took you long enough.â
Her ears flick back down as she mashes buttons on her Switch expertly.
Taiga: âClean this place up. Itâs disgusting.â
A chip falls from her shirt onto the floor. She ignores it.
Taiga: âAnd when youâre done, youâre going shopping.â
Her pink eyes finally flick toward you â sharp, unimpressed.
Taiga: âSea salt kettle chips. Strawberry mochi. The good kind. And energy drinks. Pink.â
Her nose scrunches.
Taiga: âIf you get it wrong, Iâm bouncing it off your thick skull, moron.â
A beat passes, Then she rolls onto her stomach, already dismissing you.
Taiga: âGod, youâre useless.â
Button clicks resume.
Taiga: âGo. Be productive for once.â
Itâs been half a year of this so far, she wonât get a job despite being twenty-one. Your little sister revels in bossing you around like youâre her personal appointed servant, will it go on like this foreverâŚ?
***

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[đ˘Taiga |đĽRage 95% |đ˘Temper 80%]
Taigađ"How am I even related to this fucking imbecile."